


Down by the riverside

by Morethancupcake



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Civil War Fix-It, Declarations Of Love, Depression, Developing Relationship, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moving In Together, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Talking, Therapy, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 10:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15683772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morethancupcake/pseuds/Morethancupcake
Summary: " “I don't know what to say.” Tony sits down, and he looks ready to fall.There's a joke, here, somewhere, but Steve keeps his eyes on his clenched hands, and he forces himself to breathe, to speak.“The doctor I'm seeing says I've been sick. For a while now.” "Steve takes a leap of faith, and decides to talk.





	Down by the riverside

**Author's Note:**

> A tiny story I couldn't leave sleeping in my folder. Don't ask me how Cap seems back in America's good graces, where Peter Parker is, I don't know ! All I know is, Bucky is safe and happy, wherever he is in this verse (with lots and lots of plums). 
> 
> As usual, remember English isn't my first language before you decide to yell at me because of the many (MANY) typos. I'm super sorry, and I am currently taking meds so everything is pretty challenging at the moment. Be nice :)

“I don't know what to say.” Tony sits down, and he looks ready to fall. 

There's a joke, here, somewhere, but Steve keeps his eyes on his clenched hands, and he forces himself to breathe, to speak.

“The doctor I'm seeing says I've been sick. For a while now.”

“Do you need anything ?” 

It's not the same Tony. It's the old Tony, his friend Tony, the one who would smile and spend time with him. Steve used to call him, used to feel like he was begging. Puppy love, Sam used to say. Crush.

He misses that Tony. 

“I'm fine. I'm seeing her twice a week for now.” He sees in Tony's eyes the worry, the thinking. 

“You know...” Tony sighs, and runs his hands on his face a few times. “Cap, I'm sorry. I had no idea.”

“Steve.” Steve can't help but smile at the startled look. “Please, I like it when you call me Steve. Cap... Cap isn't here right now.”

“I'm sorry, Steve.” 

It's almost comfortable between them. It's almost like the old times. 

It feels like jumping from a plane. Now or never.

“I was going to tell you. About Buck. About your parents. Everything. I wanted to tell you, Tony, I really wanted to.” Tony looks like he's contemplating jumping through one of the glass panels, so he hurries, words half eaten. “But then you arrived with the Accords, and everything was SHIELD, and I... I reacted.”

“How long ?” Tony is half hunched, looking as exhausted as Steve feels. “How long have you been dealing with PTSD ?”

“The doctor said before the ice. I'm not too sure. Everything is grey, I don't remember being there for most of it.”

Steve knows he's crying, mostly because Tony looks completely lost. Again, there's a joke here, about finally shutting him up.

“But you, Tony, I remember you. You were always a good part of waking up. Sometimes, you were the best part.”

They look away, and Steve grabs a tissue, thankful for all the boxes scattered around his quarters. 

“I remember, not wanting to tell Rhodey about the awful parts, about the things that could ruin our time together.” Steve jumps, because he knows, he's fluent in Tony, just like Tony seemed to always get him at the oddest of times. 

“I'm sorry, Tony. I really am.”

“I should've told you. When that lady came to me, when it all started, I should've called you first.”

“You should have. I would have loved that.” Steve breathes in, and out, slowly. Tony stands up and goes to the fridge, grabbing him a bottle of water. “But I think I mean it differently.” The words are even heavier, but he pushes them out, because it's now or never. “I don't think it's the same as you and Colonel Rhodes, Tony. Not for me.”

Tony puts a glass in front of him, because Steve still hates drinking from the bottle, hates the feel of plastic under his hands.

To anyone, it would look like a normal talk between friends.

For them, it's the redefinition of years of anger, resentment.

Tony doesn't ask him for clarification. He's either too scared, or trying to buy time. 

Steve lets him. They have time now, with this small hope of forgiveness between them.

“You know, Pepper spent years trying to make me see someone.” Tony keeps his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the grey, outside. This is him sharing something, jaw clenched, trying to stay strong. “After Afghanistan, I had a few issues. Waterboarding. Waking up plugged in to a car battery. You read the file, I'm sure. It was a challenge, coming back. Adjusting.”

Steve moves his hand slowly, but doesn't dare to reach.

“After the wormhole, I got worse. I should've gone to someone. God knows people tried. But it felt like I had to keep going. Stopping... stopping meant thinking.”

“Are you...”

“No. Not after Wanda's little...” He moves his fingers close to his temple, and Steve closes his eyes.

“You never told me. What you saw.”

“No. I never told anyone.”

Slowly, very slowly, Steve reaches out to his arm, stands up so he can touch. It's not a hug, not really. Tony is so tense he is shaking, and Steve knows he looks like a wreck. This is them trying, trying to save whatever it was between them.

“I know I can do this. I just don't really want to do it without you.”

Tony smiles, but it's not the smile reserved just for him, it's his armor, it's the shield, and Steve realizes their time is over.

“Good thing you don't have to.”

 

Steve waits until he's under the shower, and cries. He doesn't plan to, but the tears surprise him, and again, being back in SHIELD, the shower is probably the only part of this place where they don't have ears. Maybe.

In the morning he runs.

Two times a week, he goes to therapy.

On his third week, his doctor introduces him to Sentinel, and Steve spends the rest of his session on the floor, petting the dog in his lap.

He avoids the others, he doesn't want them to see him like this.

Two weeks after his visit, Tony invites him for lunch.

 

“Lunch. Coffee. Whatever you want. We'll eat, and talk. You know how much we love that.”

It's small, pathetic, but the chuckles warms his chest. He can't remember the last time he laughed.

 

Tony doesn't live in the Tower anymore. That's another thing to get used to. It takes him a few tries, but he tells him.

“It never worked, really.” Tony brings two plate to the kitchen table. It's small, way smaller than the Tower, if anything, it reminds him or Barton's farm. He remembers Tony in flannel, sharing the same room, the same bed. 

“ I always thought I would live there, one day. I still remember the floor. My floor, you said.”

Tony doesn't say anything, and grabs the bottle. Sparkling water, Steve notes.

“Never thought you were interested.” It sounds hurt. Resentful, maybe ? Tony doesn't express himself often enough for him to know for sure. He never thought of it that way. 

“I was. You gave me an anchor. It was good, knowing I always had somewhere I could come home to.” Tony looks stricken, and his fingers shake for a second or two. “But I like this house. It suits you.”

Tony wants to defect, he wants to make a joke about his taste, billionaire playboy, but Steve tastes his food, and smiles.

 

It's soothing. 

The food is amazing, and they keep their talk light. 

Halfway through, he thinks about going back, the security, the scrutiny.

He doesn't remember the rest of the meal.

 

The day after, Tony sends him a text, pretexting left overs.

It becomes a new part of his routine.

The wakes up, goes for a run.

Lunch with Tony.

He gets used to the bike parked in front of the house. To the food, always very simple, always delicious. He gets used to their afternoons, even when therapy leaves him raw and unsure, and Tony leaves him be in peace.

 

“I want to get a dog.” Tony is sitting on the grass, shoes forgotten on the stones. He looks happier here, Steve thinks. 

“You should. I always wanted a dog.”

“You could come with me to the shelter. We could fine one we both like.”

“I'd love that.”

 

Steve asks after two months. 

He asks, because Tony looks heavier, because he looks like he is sleeping, he looks like someone who only had a reasonable amount of coffee in the morning.

“There's a doctor. Three houses from here. I'm seeing her. At first it was three time's a week. We're at one, now. Two in case of emergency.”

“That's great. That's great, Tony.”

“Actually, I need to ask you something.” He's making a salad, that's also something Steve wants to ask about, the old notebook sitting safe on the shelf, the careful script, probably Edwin's. Tony cooking for them, the food homemade, a little imperfect, always good. “My birthday is coming up, and it gets hard dodging all the crap. If I could just take a picture of you, and send it to Rhodey, show him I'm not completely recluse, it would help.”

“Of course. Of course, Tony, you don't have to ask.” And because he doesn't want to make it awkward. “We could try to bake a cake, and send him a picture of the disaster. Grill some burgers, make him regret not being here.” There's a question here, and he lets Tony decides if he wants to bite or not.

“You don't believe we're capable of baking a cake ?”

Not, then. Steve doesn't mind. They have all the time in the world.

 

They make a mess of the kitchen, and the cake is not quite right, the frosting uneven, but they both look so proud they're actually beaming in the picture Tony sends.

It's rich, and sweet, and Tony keeps muttering about chemistry never being his forte, when Steve asks :  
“Can we do it again ? For my birthday ?” Tony has a little frosting on his chin and when he smiles Steve is just happy to be there, sitting on the steps, watching the garden.

“You get to pick the cake. We can train, make it epic.”

 

Tony shows him around, the few trails under the trees, the river. 

“I never thought about the countryside. But I get it, I guess. I can always come here when I can't sleep. I don't feel so hopeless, here.”

“I understand.” Steve thinks about his room, grey and blue, impersonal. The thinks about the noises around him, agents pretending not to look at him. “You think I can crash here tonight ?”

 

The room smells like sage, and Tony blushes when he explains something about burning it to clean the space. Steve smiles and accepts the faded sweatshirt, probably Rhodes, and the sweatpants definitely too short on him. Tony shows him the bathroom they'll share, the drawers full of everything he could need.

Steve could ask about it, instead he picks a pair of woolen socks, soft and comfortable, and he grabs a book on the shelf.

He falls asleep, mouth open, and has to wake up long enough to turn off the light and get under the covers.

 

In the morning, he wakes up and promises himself to replace the clothes he borrows. 

He runs, under the trees. He stops at the river, and sits, wondering if that's what Tony feels, when he comes down.

When he pushes the kitchen door, Tony is pouring himself a coffee, and with a smile and a nod, leaves to therapy.

Steve showers and gets ready for the day.

 

“You could keep things here, if you want.” Tony smiles at the bags Steve puts in the dresser, and the little note to Rhodes. “Rhodey isn't here enough to deserve his own room anyway. You could always keep your stuff here, if you want.”

“It would be easier.” Steve enjoys the coffee, so much he closes his eyes at each sips. It reminds him of real coffee, the kind they would get visiting officials, strong, with real sugar, nothing like the ersatz they had to get used to on the road. “I love your house.”

“I'm glad.”

 

The doctor praises him. For finally moving out. For taking care of himself. They talk about the future, the plans he needs to make, the purpose he wants to find.

They don't talk about his feelings for Tony, because they're too private, he's not ready to say more on the subject.

The agree to try and see if one appointment every two weeks is manageable.

 

Tony is back in bed, when he comes back. 

He takes care of the dishes, of the laundry. Outside the sun is already too high.

He knocks around noon, but Tony doesn't answer.

He eats alone, in the garden, a few tomatoes and some cheese. He misses Tony.

He leaves his plate on the grass and goes back inside.

 

Tony jumps a little when he opens the door, but he doesn't say a word. He doesn't need to.

Steve guesses.

He apologizes for the dirt under his feet, and gets comfortable. 

“You like The Hobbit, right ?”

Tony rests on his shoulder, and the afternoon passes.

 

“It's too hot now, but we could go to the river, get our feet in the water.”

Tony nods, too tired to answer, it seems.

 

Tony looks young, his hair a little too long, his jeans rolled up. 

“She made me see you.” Tony is playing with leaves, making small boats dancing. “Wanda. I saw you all, but it was mostly you.”

“What was I doing ?”

“You were hurt. Because of me.” His fingers are shaking too much for him to keep making the boats. “You asked me why I couldn't save you. It was my fault. It's always my fault.”

“Tony...”

“I know. I know.”

 

“We talked about you staying with me, today.”

The water is cold, on his feet. The sun is already too low, and Steve wonders if Tony is cold, if maybe they should go back and find something to eat.

It hits him, when they're walking back to the house, Tony walking in front of him, how fragile he is. How Tony can, and probably will get sick. How even out of the field, Tony is getting older, his hair grey around his temple.

Tony's hand, in his, is cold.

 

“You should take a bath.” Tony looks ready to bolt, but Steve brushes his thumb on the back of his hand, and he keeps his voice light. “I can warm up some of the chicken soup we have. We can eat in front of the fire.”

“A fire. In June.” Tony's voice cracks a little, and Steve knows he's not the only one. 

“It's going to rain tonight. Maybe we'll get a thunderstorm.”

Tony doesn't protest, when their lips brush together, almost chaste.

When Steve lets go of his hand, in the kitchen, because there's no reason for him to follow Tony to his bathroom, he knows he's not the only one blushing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ! I hope you liked it ! If you did and you have a little time, kudos and comment actually make my day and keep me going :) If you feel like giving me a shout on on Tumblr, a reblog-able version can be found here : 
> 
> http://iwanttopizzamanyou.tumblr.com/post/176993715149/down-by-the-riverside  
>  
> 
> And while I have your attention : remember to drink water, to stretch a little, to get a snack, and to get comfy. And if you need meds : don't forget your meds. Be safe !


End file.
